Revolving Doors
by Carbon Bond
Summary: Because the most profound of bonds go both ways and remain unlabeled. A long look into the lives of Sulley and Mary/ Boo, the good moments and the bad, from beginning to end. Based very loosely on Pixar's original treatment of the story.
1. Door 1

**REVOLVING DOORS**

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**[ Door 1 ]**

**Her Fourth Year  
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The happiest moment in M.I. CEO James P. Sullivan's life to date – what would remain so even into the twilight of his years – was that in which he had been reunited with Boo after believing her lost to him forever.

It had been his best friend, Mike Wazowski, whom had found the way, who had spent months repairing the child's shredded door in an incomparable show of devotion.

"Hey, I missed the kid myself," he had said with a shrug when he had questioned him about it. "I'd like to see her face around here again sometimes. Sure. Plus, Sull, I'd like to see you actually _happy_. I mean - I've got Celia, y'know? Light of life. Center of my world. Well, protecting that little kid seems to be yours."

That had been, perhaps, the most perceptive observation Mike had ever made.

And it was wholly accurate.

Sulley, to the frustration of his parents and the curiosity of his peers, was a social but largely solitary monster complete in himself and at home in his own company. Unlike Mike, a reformed lady-killer now soon to be married, Sulley had never shown much interest in romance – of any orientation – and had few real friends outside of Mike. This worried his family, but as a professional married to the satisfaction of hard-earned success, it had always worked for him.

Watching over Boo had changed that, however. She had brought something new into his life; a sense of wonder and peace, and a powerful surge of caring and protectiveness he had never realized he possessed until he met her. He realized that nothing _did_ content him more than acting as her guardian.

He was surprised to discover just how much she needed him to.

* * *

**May 27, 2002  
****8:35 AM (Monster Time) / 8:35 PM (Human Time) **

Mary Clough sat on the edge of her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest and swinging her tiny, sock covered feet over the edge in an unfocused rhythm of anticipation. She stared intently at her closet door.

Kitty came to visit her most nights since he had reappeared last October, usually just a short while after bedtime was called. He wanted her to grow up big and strong, and that meant she had to always get a good night of sleep, so he would say.

This also meant that Kitty came to visit less often than she wanted.

But that was okay, because he had _promised _to visit tonight. Tonight was very special. It was an Away Night, too, so she had hopes that he would stay a bit longer. He usually did, if he knew.

The closet door cracked open. "Boo?"

Mary loved Kitty's rumbling voice. He sounded just like Officer Haywood next door, only bigger and with more teeth. She began to giggle, fisting her little palms against her cheeks.

The door swung open wide to admit her monster into her room. He shut the door quietly behind him, eyes resting warmly on her now dancing form on the bed. A large smile spread across his face, and he let out a chuckle with a shake of his head. She loved his laughter. She loved his smile even more. Her giggles increased.

He put a huge claw to his lips. "Shhhh," he said, and she nodded, sitting still on the bed once again.

"Kitty," she whispered.

He pulled something out from behind his back, and held it out for her to see. "Happy Birthday, Boo."

It was the stuffed monster-bear from the Other Place. Mary covered her mouth with her hands to keep her squeal of delight quiet, and would have fallen off the bed in her excitement had Kitty not rushed to catch her by the scruff of her shirt. He placed her down on the floor beside him. "Whoa, there, Birthday Girl." He gave her the doll.

Mary hugged it to her tightly.

"From me _and _Mike," he said, ruffling her hair as she turned to hug his leg in turn. He crouched down before her. "Oh, and how old _are _you? Can you tell me?"

Mary rocked back and forth on her heels, hesitating, and held out three fingers. At the last minute she remembered to add one more, like Teacher had taught her. Kitty tilted his great head to the side and whistled lowly.

"Four, huh? Wow, you _are_ a big girl." Mary offered him a shy smile. "Did you get any other presents?"

"Yes!" She placed her new doll reverently next to her bed, then darted across the room to the small pile of gifts gathered there. In her rush she forgot to tread quietly, and from the noise she was making she anticipated his worried intake of breath before he took it.

"Shh, shh, Boo. Quiet, right? We don't want to scare your parents."

She shook her head emphatically. "No parents," she said flatly, more concerned with showing him the new paint set and easel she had received. There was a slight pause, and then Kitty's tone was very different.

"Tonight is an Away Night?" he asked. "Again?"

Mary pattered back over to him, watercolor tray and paper in her arms. She dropped them before him for his appraisal. "Uh-huh."

"Same babysitter?" Kitty's face was very serious as he stared at the entry way door. Mary nodded.

Mr. and Mrs. Clough were very well off in the Business sector, both of them on the Board of Directors of the companies they worked for. Their high positions required them to travel a great deal throughout the year to secure deals and promote mergers, and their income inspired much pleasure traveling as well. The result of this was Jeffrey Ryan.

Jeff was her father's nephew; a much older boy in high school, he was the Clough's only choice in caretaker for their only child. All in all, Jeff was not a completely bad young man, and did have some qualities to recommend him by; he did not look at her with perverse intentions, as was the nightmare of all parents. He was, however, indifferent to Mary. To this day, no one had ever realized that Mary Clough had briefly disappeared from the human world – in the two days he had been charged to watch her, Jeffrey had been too preoccupied by his girlfriend to notice.

Mary did not know any of this, of course – she was still much to young to understand such layered, complicated issues as the ones that surrounded her. She did, however, realize that Kitty disliked and distrusted the young man intensely. She did not like the boy herself. He never paid her any attention at all.

"Well that's different, now, isn't it?" the monster rumbled. He seemed to listen for a minute, and shook his head in disgust. "He's not even in the house. Well. Okay, then."

He scooped Boo up in his arms and deposited her back into her bed, pulling the covers back over her and fluffing her pillow briefly. He picked the former "Little Mikey" up from the floor and tucked it underneath her arms.

"I'm going to stay until he's back," he informed her, still looking displeased. His face brightened a bit, however, when she made a delighted sound at this development. "We have to make sure you stay safe."

She nodded happily. "Kititoo" she said, playing with her doll's small horns. Kitty looked puzzled for a moment, and then comprehension dawned on his face with along with much broader smile.

"Kitty-Two?" he repeated. "That's a _very_ good name. Mike will definitely approve." Mary giggled and hugged the doll even tighter to her.

"Story?" she asked hopefully. Kitty's face softened.

"Just one, okay? And then its bedtime."

Mary nodded and snuggled down into the covers as Kitty began to read to her from an imaginary book he pantomimed holding in front of him, laughing softly as she watched him. He was fun to watch – not funny like Mike Wazowski, but warm and animated in how he moved and smiled. Every now and then his eyes would look up to rest on her, and that great smile would come back and make her feel special. Like she was the most important thing in the whole world like her parents told her. Only he seemed to really mean it.

Dimly Mary realized she was falling asleep, despite her efforts to keep her eyes open and take in as much as she could of Kitty before he went away again. Sleep began to close around her gently, and it was all she could do to reach out to him.

"M'stay."

Kitty's giant clawed hand touched hers just as she had hoped.

"I'll always be here, Boo."

There was nothing and no one that made her feel safer.

That fact would remain true for the entirety of her life.


	2. Door 2

**REVOLVING DOORS**

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**[ Door 2 ]**

**Her Fifth Year**

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**August 13, 2003  
****1:27 AM (Monster Time) / 1:27 PM (Human Time) **

Mary's bedroom was literally _covered_ with paintings.

The young girl had always shown remarkable interest and aptitude for artistry, with an understanding of form and colors that – while certainly not yet on par with the talents of Geiger or Kahlo – was distinctly advanced for a child of her age. It was something that inspired a great deal of pride in her parents, whom encouraged her efforts as best they could with more paints and papers than they believed she could actually use.

She _did _use them all, of course. So quickly, indeed, that her father had recently built a small tray into the wall of her room where misprinted documents or newspapers would occupy her long enough for him to run back to the grocer's paper department.

One such discarded document – a printout of _Marionette Graphics'_ projected yearly income – was clipped to the tiny easel she stood before now.

"Don't move!" she instructed firmly. Sulley found that he obeyed her for a split second, a habit they would frequently joke about a long time from now, before his nervous fidgeting continued.

"This is very _risky_, Boo" he said again, more to himself than to his charge as he glanced furtively at her bedroom door. It was the middle of a bright summer day, and both her parents were home or at least on the property.

He couldn't begin to imagine just how many of the government's and his own protocols he was breaking.

Not that it had been on purpose. He had been working late in his office that night, concerned as he ever was about the ins and out of his new company, when he had chanced to glance up at Boo's door. He and Mike had managed to install a Door Station in his office after much labor and frustration with the company blueprints, and had fixed Boo's door permanently to it so that it stood directly across his desk on the opposite wall. It was a 'company memento,' he would explain to any clients or work associates who asked. Recently, he had been moved to hang a "Do Not Touch" sign across its width to discourage the more boldly curious.

The door _was _a memento, and much more besides. Sulley had developed a habit of glancing at it during strenuous bits of paperwork or aggravating meetings, or leaning against it when he had a particularly difficult problem weighing on his mind. Looking at the door's familiar pattern of flowers always sent a rush of warmth and peace through his body.

This time, however, it had slammed him with horror and all-consuming panic. Something liquid and red had splattered across the door's surface and had begun to leak through its many cracks; it was just beginning to drip to the floor when Sully had erupted over his desk with an indistinguishable cry, nearly destroying his office as he burst through the portal and into Boo's room. He had fully expected to find something hideous – her hurt or dying on the floor.

Instead he had found her crouched over a spilt jar of red paint, the scared and guilty face she had been sporting turning swiftly into one of delight at his appearance.

Which is how he'd found himself roped into this current situation.

Boo eyed him with a critical and almost exasperated eye from over the top of her easel, brandishing a paintbrush that looked to have recently exploded. "You have to _pose_," she said, demonstrating. As an afterthought, she added, "Mom 'n Dad are outside." She disappeared back behind the easel.

Sulley allowed himself to relax slightly, though the tension in his shoulders remained. "Pose?" he mumbled to himself, shaking his head. It was not that he patronized her use of the term or her desire to utilize it, but he wasn't sure what she could want from him.

"That's what teacher said. You have to smile!" she piped up. How she could tell he was frowning, he did not know. Sulley's lips twitched up slightly, and fully broadened into a smile when she peered around the easel again to make sure he had complied.

"How about I just sit down here, by the door, then?" he asked, conscious of the audible affect his shifting weight made on the floorboards. She glared at him a moment, then considered.

"Ok. But _smile_."

Sulley's smile increased to a laughing grin.

Despite his anxiety and the knowledge that the situation was gravely dangerous for both of them, it was still very nice to see her after such a long day of work; a soothing balm he had never, for obvious reasons, attempted or even thought of before. He wondered if Boo felt something similar when he visited her at the end of her day. If so, it was no wonder she got so upset when he couldn't make it.

"Is this going to be another one for me?" he asked after a moment. Over the past two years he had a file drawer full of her paintings and doodles locked safely in his desk, each one neatly stored and separated from others with sheets of wax paper. The first drawing she had ever given him still traveled with him at work on the back of his clipboard.

Mary made a dissenting noise. "This is _mine_." She pointed to a blank space of purple wallpaper, directly over her bed. "Mommy bought me a pict'r frame."

So that's what that ornate, golden thing was against the windowsill. Gold paint on wood, more then likely. Or perhaps not. Her parents might have bought an actual, high quality frame in hopes it could be used later.

"A picture of me?"

"_And _me," she corrected happily.

"Can I see it when it's done?"

"Umm…" She was painting quite vigorously, the motions of the paintbrush rocking the easel. "Yeah."

Sulley leaned back against the wall, watching her work for a few moments before his attention turned back towards the closet door. He had already cleaned off most of the red paint, not wanting for Boo to have her favorite hobby taken away (or her door replaced, for that matter), but a dusting of pigment remained, staining the flowers a faint red. The difference was not glaringly obvious, but if he noticed the change, her parents most certainly would, too.

Curious, he swung the door open a little wider to look at the Monster side of the door. The paint there had also disappeared, the flowers stained just as lightly.

This kind of phenomenon was not exactly new to Sulley - though his understanding of it was only dawning - and it was certainly not new to M.I.'s research department. Whatever happened to a door in the human world would always be reflected upon the monster door connected to it, though this did not work the other way around. This applied to simple cracks and new color schemes, to floods and radiation. The danger posed by even inactive doors was one of the reasons, Sulley believed, that Waternoose and Randall had begun construction on their Extraction project. The cages he had found in the abandoned door vault in the factory's sub levels chilled Sulley to this day.

Still, Sulley found it odd that in the three hundred something years since the first door technology had been developed, no one had thought of a way to utilize this phenomenon as he was beginning to. It was probably because there had been no need.

"Hey, Boo, come over here."

"I'm _painting_."

"C'mon, it will only take a second. I want to try something. In fact, bring your paintbrush."

Mary walked over to him with exaggerated annoyance, ponytail bobbing on the top of her head. She seemed curious, however, and forgot her irritation as she approached him. "Kitty?" She hugged his arm. Sulley ruffled her hair briefly, and reached for the paintbrush in her hand.

"Can I borrow this?"

She handed him the brush, eyes intent on him as he scribbled something on the bottom half of the door. He swung the closet door open so the monster side was exposed, a satisfied smile lighting his face at Boo's name appearing there.

"Boo," Mary said happily, recognizing what the letters stood for rather than actually reading them. Quick on the uptake as she had always been, she took the proffered brush back and added her own contribution to the door. "Kitty," she pronounced when she was done, smiling up at him.

Sulley's eyes widened a fraction. "Ah, that's not exactly how you spell 'kitty'," he ventured, but Boo was too caught up in their new discovery that she could _write _to him to pay attention. Forcing his gaze away from the door, Sulley started and moved to stop her rigorous attempts at a new paint job.

"I think maybe you should ask your Dad for some dry erase markers," he told her, leading her back to her easel. He glanced back at the door as she babbled to him, his previous disbelief turning into awe. He had no idea where she could have possibly learned that…

Mary had written the word "Sulley" on the door.

* * *

**Note:** The detail about Sulley finding cages in the factory sub-levels was an abandoned concept from Pixar.


	3. Door 3

**REVOLVING DOORS**

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**[ Door 3 ]**

**Her Sixth Year**

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**June 2, 2004**

**7:30 AM (Monster Time) / 7:30 PM (Human Time)**

Sulley tugged at the black tie encircling his neck, aware that he was fidgeting but unable to stop himself.

It was the day of Mike and Celia's wedding, and Monstropolis' Lesser Court – expansive and beautiful during any occasion – was filled to the brim with hundreds of well-wishers. Himself, Sulley stood on the main dais at the front of the court, acting as Mike's Best Man as he had promised long ago.

Beside him, dressed in a classic, black belt-bow-tie, Mike echoed his nervous movements for completely different reasons.

"I can't believe this is happening. I'm about to get married. Me. Celia. _Married_. With _Celia_! Oh, you don't know how long I've waited for this, Big Guy! Is my bow on tight enough? Did I remember to wax my horns – I _told _you to remind me! You _never _remember to remind me of things!"

He was saying all this very fast.

"Mike," Sulley began, aware that the Judge was glaring at them with all forty of her narrowed eyes. His friend paid him no mind, now in a state of panic.

"What else could I have forgotten? Tie…" He frisked himself. "No, no, I got that. Vows – rehearsed them. Wait, we _did_ rehearse them, didn't we? _Didn't we_? I can't remember! Um, ring – oh, the _ring_!"

"Mi-ike…"

"How could I have forgotten the _ring_? Oh, what am I going to – "

"_**Mike.**_" Sulley thumped Mike lightly in the shoulder, cutting off the smaller monster's rant and earning himself a glare. He held a box out between his thumb and forefinger. "I _have_ the ring. Your horns _are _waxed, we rehearsed for _hours_, and _you _need to calm down."

"_Calm down?!_"

"It's supposed to be the _woman_ who gets worked up at this sort of event, not the man."

Mike's teeth clicked together with an audible snap. He had the grace to look embarrassed.

"…Hey, I'm sorry, pal," he said after a moment. "This is just – this is a big day for me, you know? Happiest day in my life."

"So I gathered."

"You just don't know what it's like, Sull. I've never understood why you've never wanted this for yourself – to spend the rest of your life with someone _amazing_."

Sulley frowned, irked at this familiar barb, but he never had a chance to retort, as Celia had just appeared. Resplendent in her silver garment, she walked down the aisle to the sound of cheers, a multi-eyed youngster trailing behind her, throwing petals.

Looking at the child caused Sulley to wince. Mike, thankfully, was too stricken by his soon-to-be wife's appearance to notice his friend's distraction.

Boo was _furious _with him. It was not because he had been unable to visit her much in the past month – as always, she had exhibited uncanny understanding of the situation once he had explained it to her. She had been a little upset, of course, but had done her best to adjust so as not to cause trouble for him.

No. The girl's anger was focused on the fact that she could not act as Flower Girl at Mike and Celia's wedding, as her neighbor and friend Molly had for her cousin.

"You both can be part of _here_," she had snapped, meaning his and Mike's visits to the Human World. "I want to be a part of _there_."

Explaining that she couldn't had made things even worse – primarily because it had sent her into a spiraling tantrum that nearly got him discovered by her mother, but also because it had made Sulley miserable himself. He would dearly love to let Boo visit – to reintroduce her to the vibrant, different world she missed so much – but it was simply not possible or proper.

It was also extremely illegal.

_Perhaps when she is an adult_, Sulley thought, shocked when he realized how soon that would be. Humans aged so much faster than monsters. _I can see if I can't persuade the Council to make an exception in her case. _

If she still wanted to associate with him at all, that was. Sulley felt worry seep back into the muscles of his face and shoulders. Boo had been so angry and upset… He hated causing any negative feelings in her, and had never found a way to deal with it when he did. She had told him to _go away_…

An elbow jab to his arm drew his attention back to the present. Mike was gesturing to him as subtly as he could with small flicks of his wrist, his smile broad but a bit strained. Sulley hurried to give him the box, and cheered along with everyone else as Mike slipped the ring inside up Celia's tentacle arm. From then on he did his best to concentrate on the wedding. Even so, his thoughts drifted often to the memory of Boo's face, set in angry disappointment in him.

"_You said… you said that I'm __**special**__. You __**said**__."_

And that was the problem. Boo _was_ special.

She simply did not understand how far he would go to protect that.

* * *

**8:17 AM (Monster Time) / 8:17 PM (Human Time)**

Mike and Celia cornered Sulley when they could break away from their reception, startling a hopeful looking female away from where she had been clinging to him and apparently rescuing him from an awkward situation.

"Who was that?" Mike asked, distracted.

"No idea. Seemed to think there should be two weddings today."

That caused Mike to regain focus instantly. "You were hardly there for _one_! What's been going on with you today? That worried about work? The company can stand on its own for a few hours without you –"

"It's not that," Sulley said, interrupting, although part of him _had _been worried about that. Only because his office was empty and Boo's door unprotected. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in misery. "I'm sorry Mike – Celia; I'm very, _very _happy for you two. I'm just – Boo's angry with me."

"Angry?" Mike asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. "So what? About what?" It was not that Mike did not care about Boo, but he did not have the same understanding or respect for her as a growing individual as his friend did. Sulley frowned at him.

Celia put a restraining hand on both of them, eyes on her new husband even as she addressed him. "About what, Sulley? Is she okay?"

Celia _loved _Boo. The child was, in turn, in awe of her.

Sulley felt a bit of relief at the sympathy in Celia's voice. He would have had a hard time explaining this just to Mike. "She's upset that she didn't get to be your Flower Girl."

Celia gasped, hand going to her mouth. Mike shrugged.

"So? Ow!"

His wife had slapped him lightly. "Don't say things like that! Oh, Sulley, no wonder you're so stressed. It must have broken her heart. Being the Flower Girl is every little girl's _dream_!"

"Is it?" Sulley felt dread closing in on him. "She's never expressed any kind of…" He struggled. "…Frilly thing before."

"It's not because it's _frilly_," Celia snapped, annoyed at the term, but calmed herself at his worried expression. Softly, she explained. "It's because a young girl sees it as being an _important_ job. Of _course_ she would want that, especially at our wedding. Oh Sulley… If only we could have brought her here."

"Bad idea," Mike said, this time dodging his wife's slap. "What? It's the truth. Sull knows it."

Celia considered the bouquet still gripped in one hand. "Why don't you give her these?" she suggested, handing him the flowers. She misinterpreted his startled expression. "I know it goes against tradition, but it will make her feel very special. Trust me; it's not everyday that the Bride gives a Flower Girl her bouquet. Tell her that. Tell her she can even brag about it – you know _every _little girl likes to brag a bit –"

Sulley held the bouquet gingerly as Celia went on, taking care not to crush it as he looked over its red and pink accents and golden flourishes. He could remove the snapping Venus combs, he thought; the rest of the flowers looked similar enough to those found in the human world to avoid much speculation. "You think this will make her happy?" he asked, eyes lifting up to her in question. Celia smiled at the hopeful look on his face, reaching down to stroke her husband's forehead.

"I think that she'll be thrilled."

* * *

**9:01 AM (Monster Time) / 9:01 PM (Human Time)**

Despite the anxiety in his heart – or perhaps because of it – Sulley took his time in returning to work. His mind felt too full, and the crisp morning air helped his attempts to clear it, if only a little.

It was not just his worry for Boo, although that indeed formed a large portion of his discomfort. So many things in his life were changing. The world was changing. It all felt too fast.

Mike was moving out to begin his new life with Celia. The two of them had already purchased a nice home a little ways away from Monstropolis' downtown sector, choosing a nice but humble residential community even though Mike's salary as co-owner could have afforded them much better. They wanted their children to grow up well rounded and unspoiled.

"Not that we're planning on, ah, having any for a while," Mike had said. Celia had mock glared at him.

"_We? _What's this _we_ business?"

"I want to have Celia to myself for a while. Some day you'll understand. But hey. Give us ten or fifteen years, and we'll have a whole _hoard_ of them, don't you worry!"

"_Hoard_?"

Upon the break of sunset, Sulley would be living alone for the first time in his life. He could not remember a time when he and Mike had not been joined at the hip. He was happy for Mike – he truly was – but he could not help feeling that he was being left behind.

It was probably best if he moved out from their old apartment as well. M.I.'s Board of Directors had been urging him to do so for a long time, scandalized that the company's radical but ingenious new owner still lived under such "common" trimmings.

Henry J. Waternoose, like his father and grandfather, had lived in a penthouse atop the company's executive building, which looked to be separate from the factory but was in actuality connected to its every sector. This had much to do with the Waternoose's habit of "sitting" on their money, and while Sulley did not necessarily adhere to or agree with this sentiment, he was just as much a company man as any of them had been. He had actually visited the penthouse once upon invitation, and it was indeed very nice. It would be soothing for a man like him, whose life was already work, to essentially reside at its heart, even if it was a little grandiose for his tastes.

Plus, it was costing the company more – the Board liked to remind him – to keep the penthouse empty. Sulley decided he would make some phone calls that day and see if the move could be done before the week was out.

He arrived back at his office closer to ten, much later than he would have liked. He sighed – it was too late to visit Boo now. She would be asleep right now, or infuriated if she was still awake. He could just leave the flowers outside her closet door for her to find in the morning. It would be a nice surprise for her.

This thought cheered him up somewhat. He considered for a moment writing a note – Boo had picked up reading surprisingly fast – but dismissed it almost immediately. It would not do for her parents to find it. He couldn't imagine how they might construe it. He could always explain it to Boo later.

"…and I want a house _this _big!"

Sulley froze, eyes swinging to Boo's door in surprise. The voice belonged to a young girl, but it wasn't hers. His eyebrows rose as more young voices sounded through the wood. Placing the bouquet on his desk, Sulley approached the door slowly, careful not to scrape his horns against the wood as he pressed his ear against it. The voices, muted before, suddenly rang clear.

"Oh yeah, well – I want a house _this _big. With a… with a _fence_ in front. And a _dog_."

"That's what _I _said, Nicole! Stop copying me!"

"What about _you, _Mary?"

Sulley took a sharp intake of breath as the voices exploded into giggles. It was a _slumber party_ – Boo's very first slumber party, probably one belatedly celebrating her birthday. The fact hit him harder than he expected.

Three years ago, he had been the terror of slumber parties – he had first made a name for himself within the company because of it. Boys, girls, it did not matter. The result was always the same: multitudes of young faces screwed up in fear, small voices cracking under the strain of the premium quality Scream they produced. The researchers at M.I. found that Group Scream, as they had dubbed it, produced much cleaner, more efficient energy, and had become fascinated with the subject. The executives at M.I. had been delighted as well – with Group Scream being so hard to come by, they could sell it at a much higher cost. Sulley's luck and skill and obtaining Group Scream had made him very popular with the company very quickly. It was one of the reasons Henry Waternoose had first taken him under his wing.

But for all his experience with the subject, Sulley had never actually thought to ponder what was _supposed _to happen at a slumber party. These girls sounded so _happy_, and seemed to constantly be laughing. He could not imagine how much Laughter could be produced during this kind of event – it was something to look into.

Sulley was drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of Boo's voice. She was close to the door – leaning against it, in fact.

"I don't want all that stupid stuff," she was saying, sounding annoyed as only children can. She may have been mature for her age, but there are some phases that everyone goes through. Sulley could hear the other girls gasp in response, as if she had just cursed in front of them. The happy mood suddenly evaporated.

"It's not _stupid_," one of them said angrily.

"Yeah, _Mary_. What else are you going to do? _Everyone _has to make a house and a family."

Sulley's brows furrowed, unused to the idea of human children fighting. What were they even talking about?

"Well not me," Boo snapped. "I'm _never _getting married! That stuff's gross!"

Now Sulley's brows almost rose above his horns.

"It is _not_!" The little girl who said this sounded close to tears. Mary did not seem to have any mercy for her, however.

"Yeah it is! I'm going to be an _artist_, and I'm going to live on a _huge _mountain – or a forest – or… Or a _mansion_. In the _Other World_! And I'm going to work like Dad for a graphics company, and I'm going to be the best they ever had _ever_."

"Being an _artist_ is stupid," the teary girl retorted cruelly.

"What? It is not!"

"Yeah, Mary," another girl said, a note of superiority in her tone. "You _have _to get married. It's the _rules_."

"No I don't!" Boo was now screaming. She sounded as if _she_ was now close to tears. "I'm going to be just like Sulley, and I'm going to go live with him and we are going to be best friends forever! _They can't stop me!_"

"Yeah they can!"

"No they can't! They _can't_!"

"Your friend's not even _real_."

"…"

Sulley could hear Mary start to cry in earnest now, and for the first time in a long while wished dearly to return to his Scarer status, if only for this one occurrence. He was pained at the sound of her misery, and touched by the realization that she felt for him so strongly. He was a bit worried about her resolve to emulate him in terms of romance, however – relative solitude worked for him, yes, but that did not mean he wanted that from her. He wanted her to experience whatever she wanted in life.

Even if that meant their eventual separation. For that would surely happen, he realized (as Mary had long ago) were she ever to marry anyone.

It would be like Mike distancing himself all over again. Sulley was suddenly unsure what to think of that.

"Okay, girls, that's enough."

The new voice was deep from cigarette smoke and distinctly male – Boo's father, Sulley guessed. There was the sound of tiny feet pattering to different places on the floor. "Into your sleeping bags, now, chop-chop. It's _way _past all of your bedtimes. I don't want to hear any more noise from you all, okay?"

The man was certainty direct, Sulley thought, frowning. He waited for Mr. Clough to comfort his still crying daughter. So, it seemed, was Boo. This was supposed to be _her _slumber party, _her _night. She was supposed to be _happy_.

"Daddy?"

"Go to sleep, Mary. You'll feel better in the morning." The man left briskly, footsteps echoing down the hallway and into silence.

There was the sound of hiccuping against the door, and the soft dragging of fabric on wood – Boo had dragged her sleeping bag to lie in front of the closet door, Sulley guessed. He pressed his hand against the flower design, wishing he could comfort her.

Sulley stayed in this position for the next thirty minutes, waiting for the girls to fall asleep before he ventured quietly into the room. As he had guessed, Boo was sleeping close to the door, with just enough space between it and her sleeping bag to permit him entry. She had probably been hoping for it, he realized, despite how angry she had been with him. This tugged at something in his heart. He bent down to wipe the remainder of tears from her face.

Gently, he tucked the bouquet of flowers against her sleeping form for her to find in the morning, as proof of his care and existence. He wished he could wake these other girls up and solve that matter more quickly, but easily restrained himself. It was not fair to pick on little girls, as cruel as they might have sounded, and such interference would be highly illegal.

Twenty years from now, Sulley would not care about these things, disregarding any and all obstacles in the heat of protecting Boo.

Now, however, he contented himself with simply ruffling her hair in gentle affection. She sighed in her sleep, smiling and curling her hands around the bouquet unconsciously. This brought his own smile to his lips.

"I'll always be here," he intoned quietly, repeating the promise he had made three years ago and nearly every night since then. It was a truth he would always stand by.

He returned to work some minutes later, drained and worried, but much happier than he had been in a good while.

It was good to realize that he was still needed, and humbling to admit that he _needed _to be needed.

* * *

**Note: **The bouquet is not meant to foreshadow anything like Sulley and Mary getting married – their relationship might change to multiple levels as they both age (the change and flow and inability to be labeled being the whole point of this story) but this is not a "romance-goal" story.

It is not an "angst-goal" story either, for that matter. I did not know that this chapter in their lives would be this predominantly _negative_ – it simply turned out that way. Mary's parents are not abusive or neglectful – I imagine her father simply had a long day – and Mary is not getting bullied at school. Nothing so cliché. Little girls, quite simply, are cruel at times. At least that is what I remember.

A special thanks to my first supporters. I have not received permission to print your names in recognition, but please know that I am grateful for your encouragement. It means a great deal to me.


	4. Door 4

**REVOLVING DOORS**

**

* * *

**

**[ Door 4 ]**

**Her Seventh Year  
**

**

* * *

**

As would be the pattern for the majority of her life, Mary's innate ability to perceive things without prejudice was both beneficial and detrimental to her character.

Perhaps it was her journey into the "Other World" that had provided the catalyst – her early introduction to different forms and mentalities that had helped shaped her comfort with them.

Or perhaps it was the shrewd artistic mind she had inherited from her parents that inspired her to appreciate such differences and to seek them out. To know and understand them.

Or perhaps it was something inherently hers, as was the beating heart within her chest.

Whatever the reason, Mary would grow up to be an amazing woman who forged her own path alongside, and often though, that of others. Many people would love her because of this.

And just as many people would hurt her.

Mary's understanding of this particular duality began to take root at the start of second grade, with a boy named Ricky Whitlock. She had liked the boy – he had been sweet if a bit quiet – but his parents had pulled him from school at the end of the first week. Despite her offered friendship, he had been unable to deal with the confusing and frightening mockery of their classmates.

"Monster Boy", they had called him.

Mary began to understand that a good number of people simply _didn't_.

She began to pay attention.

* * *

**September 20, 2005 – Red Oaks Elementary, Room 204 (Library)**

**9:28 AM (Human Time)  
**

"That's not a monster."

Ms. Ferris looked up from _Tail of the Tithe_, readjusting her glasses to peer at the little girl currently glaring at her. She was surprised to hear such anger coming from a normally friendly child. There was a ring of lavender carpet around her, as her friends and classmates had edged away to find safer plots of floor. Some were even pointing to the girl as if to clarify that they were not the cause of the disruption.

"Don't fight with Teacher," one of the girl's friends whispered, looking both awed and terrified.

Ms. Ferris overcame her surprise with a shake of her head, and offered the girl a smile. "I am sorry – Miss Clough? What are you talking about?"

Tiny arms crossed. "The wolf."

"Yes?"

"You said he was a 'terrible monster.'"

"Oh, well yes, I -"

"Well, he's _not_. He's a – A _bad guy_. A _villain_."

"I –" Ms. Ferris was unsure of what to say to this statement, so eerily adult in its clarity. She tried, gently, to explain. "Sweetie, they mean the same thing."

The girl's face turned stony. "No. They don't."

* * *

Another dual characteristic that Mary possessed was the ease in which she dealt with the opposite sex - a trait fairly uncommon in both worlds, even in these days of social progression.

Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that Mary was good with _people; _a skill no less rare or complicated in its nature. While it was certainty true that Mary had (and would always have) more male friends than female friends, it was also true that she saw no distinction between them. Mary was not the type of person who noted distinction between _anything_, in fact. Age, race, gender, species; for her there simply was _no difference_.

Consequently, one of Mary's favorite books – in both meaning and artistic style – would always be Dr. Seuss' _Horton Hears a Who_.

* * *

**December 14, 2005 – Red Oaks Elementary, Playground**

**1:30 PM (Human Time)  
**

"Your snowman has three eyes."

Mary glanced over at her friend Chris, the faux fur of her parka tickling her face and causing her nose to wrinkle. "So?"

"It's got a tail."

"And octopus legs," Marcus, another friend, put in. Mary's hands went to her hips.

"Octopus don't have _legs_ -"

"What_ever!" _Chris exclaimed, drawing her attention back to him. He pressed his point with a fairly decent impression of the school's principal._ "_It's not _normal_."

Mary's response was to add a fourth eye, making Marcus giggle and Chris to turn away with a stomp of his foot. Angrily, he shoved the carrot stick he had saved from lunch into the face of his own snowman. "You've _got_ to have _two_ eyes," he muttered.

"Yeah?" Mary seemed to sense his hurt feelings, so attempted their argument from a new angle. "Who says?"

This threw him for a loop, as predicted. His cheeks – already rosy from the softly falling snow – turned scarlet. "...I don't _know_. They just _do_."

"_Su-u-re_." Her smile was back, curving into a rather delicate smirk more teasing than it was mocking . Even at this early age, Mary wore the look well, as she would as an adult. "_I_ think you're just _jealous_."

Chris gave up on his snowman in favor of knocking hers over, to which she only laughed and demolished his in turn.

* * *

Even within the more private spheres of her life, Mary was different.

Mary was and would always be the outgoing type – a socialite from an early age, and a delightful team payer when the occasion arose. She was easily distracted by the prospect of meeting new people, despite the fact that _focus_ was one of the things that separated her from most of her peers. She was a nice girl, if just a bit "weird" - fun to be around with, and very easy to trust.

"Aggressively friendly," was a phrase Mike would coin one day in the far future, and this was perhaps one of the best descriptions of Mary to be conceived.

And all this, perhaps, was why one particular quirk to her personality was always overlooked.

When it came to verbal affection, Mary was virtually silent.

Indeed, Mary would utter the phrase "I love you," only once in her life, with the words heard only after it ended.

* * *

**January 14, 2006 – The Clough Living Room**

**7:30 PM (Human Time)**

James Clough came back into the warmth of the house after a futile attempt to smoke on his frozen veranda, his sour expression earning himself a small laugh from his wife lounging in a chair before the fire. A book was cradled in one long fingered hand.

"Maybe a good time to quit?" she teased. His mouth twitched up in wry amusement.

"You and Dr. Miller just keep hoping." A pause. "Where's my Maid Mary-kins?"

Morgan's lashes lowered, directing his attention down to a section of carpet bordering the back marble steps of the fireplace. His daughter lay curled on her side, mimicking her mother to some extent with one hand still gripping her favorite "Zoobook" even as she dozed, bathed in the flickering light.

"Takes after her old man," he announced with a laugh. He glanced over at the romance novel Morgan had begun pursuing again. "Much better taste then _you_, Fae."

She raised a brow, ever tolerant – and suddenly frowned. "Do you think we were too late?"

"Too late?"

She chose her words carefully. "We were gone so often when she was little, James. I just think... James, I tried reading to her tonight, and she told me she wasn't interested in "mushy" things. And Ms. Haywood called me the other day – she told me Mary only stayed for the fighting scenes in Aladdin..."

"Well, good for her," he said, already scooping to pick the child in question up. "Always knew she was a practical kid." Morgan stood when he did, her face very serious now.

"Doesn't it bother you that she has never once said that she -"

"No," he said before she could finish – because some buried part of him _was _bothered. He cradled his daughter against the broad plane of his chest, her tiny hands unconsciously gripping the fabric of his turtleneck, and took comfort in her trust in him. "She doesn't need to."

* * *

It was amazing, really, how complex a personality this young girl had. She was deemed a prodigy for her artistic talent, though she was more driven than obsessed in her endeavors. She was not necessarily more intelligent than others her age, but she was most certainly more _aware_. Her moods fluctuated wildly, as did her interests and tastes. Her very nature, indeed, seemed wrought with perplexity and contradictions. But this was really not surprising.

Mary was one of the few humans alive that truly existed in two worlds; a phenomenon that – in truth – the human mind is ill adapted to handle. It is not only the shock of touching another plane of existence – that alone alters the structure of the brain forever – but the simple fact that one cannot remain caught between two realities forever. Eventually, one door has to close.

And on some level, perhaps, Mary knew this.

So she simply created a new world, where the two were combined.

* * *

**April 3, 2006 – Mary's Bedroom**

**8:13 AM (Monster Time)/ 8:13 PM (Human Time)**

"Just put the door in you _own _room. Then we can just knock the walls down."

"Boo..." A deep chuckle. "It doesn't work that way."

"No?"

"I don't think so."

"Well. Have you _tried_?"

* * *

It was the endurance of her character, even in the darkest times of her life, that was Mary's most notable trait.

* * *

**Note: Boo is such a perfect blank slate, she is almost like an original character – and thus poses the risk of being perceived as a (if you will) "Mary-Sue". I have given careful thought as to the kind of person she will grow into – taking as much from the movie and Pixar's original pitch as I can – but there is no denying that she has become more of my own creation.**

**On a completely separate note, I have no idea what was "wrong" with the boy in the introduction, and do not particularly see reason to elaborate. There are a number of very sensitive topics this story will touch upon. Know that I treat each one with respect for the multiple perspectives surrounding them, and write them with no intent of revealing my own opinions.**


End file.
